Lucifer and Satan
by Lcrazemag
Summary: Quinn and Santana are denied entrance to heaven because of their transgressions while on Earth. They are given a chance to gain entry by serving as Death Agents, when they meet Rachel, who teaches them just how awful they really were.
1. Prologue - Her Holiness

Title: Lucifer and Satan

By: Lcrazemag

A/N: I've been debating whether I would be able to write a serial killer Quinn fic without making it hilarious and inappropriate, and I realized I probably couldn't. This just came to me, and hey! Quinn gets to kill people here sorta.. but its not.. hm.

Anyways, this is a little gray. I'll warn that** Rachel in this story is bullied harshly and contemplates suicide, and there's a minor character death**. But its actually not_ that_ depressing. At least, I tried not to make it so.

* * *

**Prologue - Her Holiness**

"Okay, next we have... Ah yes, little Lucy Quinn and Santana Lopez. My favorites!"

The Holy court gasped.

"What? Oh, I was just kidding! For _my _sake, take a joke—any-who, send them in."

Quinn and Santana were led into the Holy court to be judged. Quinn had blood all over her Cheerios uniform, and what looked like a huge gash that wrapped around her torso. Santana's arm was bent at an unnatural angel. It was all very morbid. Goddess's eyes widened.

"Okay I know I watched this happen on screen but it looks so much worse in person. Why didn't anyone clean you two up?" Her Holiness asked.

Michael, one of the Arch Angels, cleared his throat and looked away. "My apologizes your Holiness. I, um.. "

Goddess raised her eyebrows. "Whatever, its gravy. I got this." She snapped her fingers and Quinn and Santana looked as pristine as when they walked out of their houses this morning. "Okay, lets get down to business. You two are gorgeous."

Quinn and Santana blushed. They both came from religious families and had kneeled before Goddess. They both uttered a simultaneous "Thank you, your Holiness."

Goddess snorted. "Please ladies, call me Holly. It takes the pressure off."

Quinn and Santana looked at each other, before Santana spoke up. "Not that I'm uh, _questioning_.. you, H–Holly, but I thought... I thought everyone faced judgment alone. Why is Quinn here?"

Holly tsked, "That sure sounded a _lot _like a question, sweetcheeks." She smirked.

Santana gulped and Quinn glared at her for questioning Goddess—uh, _Holly_.

"Okay, okay. Up you both go, off your knees. It's time." Holly said, shuffling through papers as Quinn and Santana scrambled to their feet. "According to my notes here, you two have quite the reputation back on Earth. You're nicknamed _Lucifer and Satan._ More of your peers fear you than _Me_. You've tortured hundreds of my children, and even some of my grown-ups." Holly sighed. "Girls, you two are beautiful, intelligent, and I was the one who installed your hearts. I'd ask _what happened_, but being that I'm all-knowing..." she trailed off with an eyebrow raise.

Santana and Quinn waited patiently for their judgments. They both felt completely shattered knowing they'd disappointed their Creator so awfully.

"Okay look, I don't usually do this for everyone, but I know both your hearts. You've both been through so much and I know your experiences may have _helped _to make you cynical and bitter, so I'm willing to give you both another shot. We have some openings on my Death Agents squad, and I'm assigning you two right now—"

The Holy court broke out in loud whispers and murmurs. Holly cleared her throat and it was silent.

"Like I was saying, I'm assigning you two as Death Agents. Think of it as like, _purgatory_ from your religion, Santana. Quinn, I'm not sure I have an equivalent for you because your denomination changes its mind about everything every few months so we'll just go with purgatory."

Quinn and Santana silently waited.

"If after you've served the Agency and I've seen in you what I need to see, I'll reconsider your cases."

Again, Santana was the one to speak up. "Is that... is that all? How long do we have to prove ourselves, and what will we have to do?"

Holly, grinned "I thought you'd never ask. So, you'll both attend the Death Academy, after that its pretty simple. You've heard of the Angel of Death? There ya go, you both are. Case dismissed."

Quinn and Santana frowned.


	2. Chapter One - Angels of Death

A/N: Warnings for minor character** deaths**. Harsh **bullying and ****assault**. Harsh **Language and misogyny**. This one absolutely earns its "M" rating, guys.

* * *

**Chapter One - Angels of Death**

They were sitting on top of the bleachers, in the last row as they watched the football game. Quinn trudged her way up to Santana, who was lounging back, puffing on a cigar. The football game wasn't of much interest to them, but they had a job to do. They typically took the time to scope out their clients before the close.

It made them feel odd, calling them clients instead of victims. But they got over it after the first few.

"Where'd you get that?" Quinn drawled, reaching up to Santana's mouth and snatching the Cuban cigar from between her lips. "Is this real, or did you learn a new trick?"

Santana smirked at her, then eyed the pink tips of Quinn's long hair. "Wouldn't you like to know. Maybe you teach me how to make my hair change colors like that then I'll teach you how to conjure up cigars."

Quinn chuckled, sliding her long fingers through Santana's dark, long locks. "Hmmm, no. I love your hair this way. Its so sexy."

Santana glared at she tried to snatch back her cigar, but Quinn held it out of reach.

"Open you mouth." Quinn husked.

Santana crossed her arms. "Do you always have to be such a perv? Who knew you had a afterlife kink."

Quinn laughed, pressing even closer to Santana and hovering the cigar over her mouth as she pulled on the hair to tilt Santana's head back. "Open."

Santana rolled her eyes and opened her mouth slightly. Just enough so that Quinn could slide the cigar between her lips obscenely. She began playfully thrusting it and her grin got wider as Santana choked on it and Santana reached up to yank Quinn's arm away.

Quinn sighed, "I miss sex."

Santana nodded as they turned their attention back to the game. The head quarterback—some gigantic kid who was pretty awful at it—ran off the field unexpectedly to speak to the coach. This was all rather boring.

Quinn conjured up a book and began to read. Santana turned toward her to talk some more as a means of distraction, but gaped when she noticed Quinn reading.

"Seriously? You're reading _Harry Potter_ in the middle of a hit?" Santana asked.

Quinn shrugged, but otherwise ignored her. She turned the page and continued reading.

"Fine bitch, I'm going to down there and see if I can get the ball rolling a little." Santana said with a wink, rising to head down the bleachers.

"Not gonna work." Quinn murmured.

Santana frowned "and why's that?" She paused with a hand on her hip.

Quinn scoffed. "Did you even read the file? We're waiting for one of those jackass football players and his buddies to go out drinking after the game. He's supposed to get behind the wheel and smash into the car of a businessman late from work. We get to orchestrate the crash this time."

Santana smiled, oddly enough, car crashes were her favorite deaths to orchestrate. "Do we know which one it is?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow and looked at her, "I do, because _I _read the file."

Santana rolled her eyes amd plopped back into her seat next to Quinn. Quinn smirked and returned to her book.

—LaS—

_Noah Puckerman _was his name. He was young, from a broken home, had a mother and younger sister he would leave behind. He was Jewish—_a sidenote in his file_—but wasn't very devoted to the religion, so it was up to them whether they adheared to his religious standard when they read him his death rights. According to his record he was kind of a tool. Santana and Quinn used to run with assholes like him. Now, approximately five years later, they were orchetrating the deaths of guys like him constantly. Not only do _the good die young,_ the selfish, dumb, and reckless do too.

Santana and Quinn watched as Puckerman and his friend—_another player who could potentially learn from this tragic experience—_stumbled from the house party into their vehicle. Santana swiftly situated herself in the back seat, ready to enjoy the ride. Quinn smirked at her partner, _she really does enjoy these too much._ As soon as Puckerman cranked the engine and peeled out of the drive way, Quinn made her way to the intersection.

"_Awww man. She was so hot. A prude tho. Doesn't matter, I could get couple wine coolers in her and she'd fall right into my lap. She looked like a lightweight. If I could just detach her from Hudson's man tits.. you know he's not tapping that. Hes not man enough, that's why she wont even suck his baby dick for him. He could at least get a Cheerio on the side, you know? But none of them want that. They'd be too loose to feel it." _Puckerman slurred.

"_I thought you and Hudson were boys?" _The other boy laughed.

Puckerman chuckled darkly. "_Fuck you say? That limp dick isn't my boy. His lame ass can't even throw a football. The fuck we 'sposed to make it to state with that fag behind the ball?"_

Santana was listening in to their conversation, but she'd heard it all before. She filed her nails while she waited, her internal clock telling her they had about three minutes left of their conversation before the crash. She briefly wondered if her old friends spoke about girls in such a crude and insulting manner, but shrugged as she realized she was no angel herself.

Quinn was in the front passenger seat of a Mercedes Benz. She went over the file of the driver, as he nervously texted his wife his whereabouts. Only they were _lies._ Quinn was there when he'd left the prostitute at the motel. He paid the woman and then made his way to his car, a stain on the front of his pants as he zipped his fly. Quinn clicked her tongue and she watched him switch his attention back and fourth from the road to the phone. His name was _William Scheuster_. Married, but no kids. A decent guy, a couple blemishes on his record, but nothing too awful. Seems he'd been cheating on his wife for a while now because they'd been married for months and she wasn't ready for sex—_him being a man whore that probably was pretty hard to endure. _Quinn sighed. She could almost sympathize with him. Angels didn't participate in the more carnal pleasures of humanity. But just to punish them more, Holly left them with their urges because they weren't full angels, just death agents.

Quinn rolled her eyes, closed the file and got ready to perform.

It _was _simple, really. Its honestly not that hard at all to end human life. The design of a human body is so complex, so precise, that everything has to be working in conjunction for the soul to remain attached and sustain life. If one of the vital organs—_the squishy, organic pieces resting basically unprotected inside the skeletal frame_—is shut down then its game over.

Quinn though, appreciates a bit of flair. She didn't half ass anything when she was alive, including _her own death._ And she surely didn't hesitate to climb the ranks as one of the most creative death agents, either.

Santana mostly liked to ride along and let Quinn do her thing. She had no problem playing second in command... again. Okay maybe she complained about it at first but its whatever, she's used to it.

The cars were both heading towards an intersection. Puckerman's car going much faster than the speed limit, and Schuester's veering in his lane, a sure sign that he wasn't giving the road his full attention.

Quinn was now standing in the middle of the intersection, waiting for the right moment to begin. She watched as the light above Puckerman's road turned red, but he showed no signs of slowing down. To her right, Schuester's car was approaching the light at a much slower rate, but his eyes were glued to his phone. Quinn cracked her knuckles as she smiled a devious smile, the same one that made her peers nickname her _Lucifer_ behind her back.

Puckerman ran the light as predicted, his truck going almost 40 miles over the limit. At the exact moment of impact, Schuester looked up to lock eyes directly with Quinn, and she winked at him before raising her left arm, flipping his car over twice as she caused Puckerman's truck to skid sideways to help preserve the passenger's life, as she caused the driver's side of the truck to slam into the top of Schuester's car. For extravagance, she ruptured the gas line of Schuester's car and let it spill a little before snapping her fingers and setting it aflame.

Santana's eyes widened. _When did she learn that trick? _Quinn cleared her throat and Santana sprung into action, unbuckling the second boy's seatbelt—_which ironically in this case would have cost him his life—_and shoved him through the windshield. She could've simply dragged him out via the passenger door but... whatever. He was an asshole, anyway, and she'd just saved his life cause it wasn't his time. He can bitch and moan about it later.

Santana stood by Quinn as they surveyed the damage. Quinn looked quite proud of her work and Santana couldn't deny that she was good at her job. Both cars were totally smashed, and they couldn't sense any life signals from the two clients. It was rare they received a two for one deal, but this one had gone off without a hitch.

"Alright, I'll leave you to escort these _gentlemen _to a holding cell until their Holy court date." Quinn smirked.

Santana groaned. "You always make me do it, lazy ass. You get to have all the fun."

Quinn hummed. She took out her cell and dialed an ambulance for the third jackass. "Whatever, just make sure you're clear when you read their death rights. No more freaking them out saying you're dragging them to hell. That's not your jurisdiction."

Santana scoffed and dragged her feet over to the corpses to retrieve their souls.

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_A/N: Review pls? :)_


	3. Chapter Two - Rachel

Thank you Caseyrn12, your confusion in the review you posted alerted me to the fact that I posted the wrong chapter :), so for that, I guess you guys get two today. I would suggest going back to read them in order.

Warnings for** harsh dialogue, bullying**, **assault, **and** contemplation of suicide**.

* * *

**Chapter Two - Rachel**

Rachel was, once again, in the girls locker room with her slushy kit.

She had to be careful, because if the Cheerios caught her in here, they'd do something to humiliate her even further like steal her clothing and hide them, or snap her naked body with towels. They would call her names and make fun of her small stature, and ask her _where she's hiding her dick. _She'd never understand that last one, and why they were so adamant that she was intersexed. They said it to be derogatory, but she wondered if any of them really understood what it meant.

Everyday, she dealt with this. She's called names, usually referencing the fact that she's got two fathers, and homophobic in nature. Sometimes they get creative and throw in a few anti-semitic slurs, but they hardly ever stray from the normal _tranny, dyke, man-hands, _and _treasure trail._ She doubts any of them really know that her name is Rachel.

But then there are the slushies. Cold mixtures of ice and corn syrup that they like to throw at her, drenching her clothes and stabbing her pride. It hurt in more ways than one. If being bitch-slapped by an iceberg wasn't enough, the laughter and pointing that followed felt almost worse. Like she deserved to be assaulted daily with frozen drinks for the sake of humor. Like she's bringing it on herself somehow by just being _her,_ and that it's hilarious.

She's held her head high for years, but recently its all becoming too much. The bullying used to be her own cross to bear, a price she thought she had to pay for her future stardom. She's read enough biographies to know that most of the greats have had some pretty rough childhoods. She figured that it was just time to pay her dues now, and she'd reap the benefits later when she hires someone to write her _own_ memoirs.

The latest blow, however, has been like a giant boulder crushing her. She found out a while ago that her biological mother had been trying to contact her, and had agreed to meet with her. Her own fathers were hardly around, celebrating the moment she entered high school like it was their key to freedom, claiming she could finally take care of herself. She'd overheard a discussion of theirs in which they'd admitted they couldn't wait 'til she was 18 and in New York. They'd pay full tuition and donate if need be to get her there and get their lives back. Maybe adopting a child was a hasty decision, but it had been a fad among their group of affluent gays and they just had to have one. Rachel cried really hard when she'd overheard the conversation, and jumped at the opportunity to meet Shelby.

—

Shelby was kind, but had kept herself from getting too personal with Rachel. She wanted a friendship with her biological daughter, and made it clear to Rachel that she couldn't be her mother. They talked like friends talked, and Rachel couldn't trust Shelby enough to share about any of the hardships in her life. She didn't want Shelby to find her weak, or a downer to be around. So she accepted the coffee and brunch dates and listened to Shelby talk about her life, and they talked about show choir, and Broadway, and New York.

Rachel finally had a friend.

But then, Shelby called Rachel up excited one night, and asked if they could go to dinner because she had exciting news. Rachel was happy that her mother was so excited about something, and figured maybe she was thinking about giving Broadway another shot and that she'd be willing to go to New York with Rachel when she graduated in two years. Then she wouldn't be alone there, either. Rachel was actually quite excited to meet with Shelby and hear the news.

Only, what Shelby wanted to tell her _wasn't _that at all. Rachel's heart exploded in her chest when Shelby told her that she'd been approved to adopt a baby girl. Rachel fought back the urge to cry tears of betrayal and hurt, and gave her mother a show smile. She couldn't understand why Shelby thought she would be excited about this news, but then realized that any normal friend _would be._ Shelby must have truly only seen her as a friend, and was replacing her daughter role with someone else's baby. Rachel wanted to fall off the face of the Earth.

When she got home later that night, all she wanted was for her dads to hold her, tell her that they were wrong and that they loved her. What she got was a big dark house, loneliness, and a head full of nightmares telling her that no one loved her and she'd always be alone.

—

Rachel stepped out of the shower stall and dried herself off quickly. She pulled on her underwear and threw on a sweater, a skirt, and her shoes, then grabbed her things and high tailed it out of there.

She only had half a class period left before Glee, and she hadn't been in the mood to sing ever since that night with Shelby. Rachel decided she'd rather just go home. She exchanged her books in her locker and grabbed the ones she needed before heading out to her car in the student lot.

Rachel didn't see them before it was too late, or she would have run. They must've been waiting on her. The group of cheerleaders and jocks that should've been in class then, cornered her in the parking lot a few paces away from her car. One of the football players grabbed her before she was able to make a run for it, and shoved her back into the middle of their circle. She stumbled and fell, scratching her knees and palms on the hard asphalt of the ground.

The head cheer-bitch snickered. "Where ya headed, Tranny?"

Rachel gulped and blinked her eyes, trying to fight back the tears. She didn't need to cry in front of them. That would just make it worse.

"My name is _Rachel,_ and that's none of your business." Rachel growled out.

The head cheer-bitch laughed. "Ohh, kitten's got claws huh? You've got some nerve talking to me, _dyke._ I'm still not sure why Hudson's sniffing around you, but maybe you're just his gay beard. Am I right?"

Rachel pushed herself to her feet and glared at the girl. It was then that she realized that they had cartons of eggs with them. There were three football players, and five cheerleaders. The only one not holding a carton was their leader.

"I see you've noticed we brought you a little gift" the head cheer-bitch sneered. "We thought you might like some eggs to go with that _sausage _you've been hiding under that skirt." she opened the carton the girl beside her was holding and took out one of the eggs. Rachel was looking for an exit to bolt, but they literally had her surrounded. The head cheer-bitch closed in on her and got right in her face to whisper "maybe after today, you'll realize the only place you really belong is with the trash," before smashing the egg right on Rachel's forehead, and smearing it in her face with her hand.

The head cheer-bitch moved out of the way, and as soon as she was in the clear, the rest of the athletes took their cue to start throwing the eggs at Rachel. Rachel crouched down to protect herself, willing herself not to cry and just let them get it over with so she could go home and clean up _again. _As soon as they were out of eggs, Rachel thought it was over, but two of the football players grabbed her arms and legs and lifted her body, holding her in a way that they touched as little of the egg as possible. They carried her over to the art recycle dumpster, and hoisted her over into it. The debris inside the dumpster stuck to the egg all over her, and Rachel felt it on her skin. Soon after her bags flew in, her backpack crashing into her body painfully because of the load of books she carried. Rachel groaned in pain as the lid was then shut, and waited for the laughter to fade before she allowed herself to curl into a ball and cry.

—LaS—

It was after sun set when Rachel woke up. She was in pain, covered in dried eggs and various trash, and shrouded in total darkness. She contemplated just staying in the trash bin because, what did she really need to be home for? There was no one there and its not like she'd feel any better. Soon though, the smell of the eggs was starting to overpower her, so she ignored the throbbing in her back and side, and lifted herself out of the bin after tossing her bags over onto the ground.

Rachel hurt. She hurt emotionally and physically. She didn't know where to go from there and she felt like even her dreams of stardom weren't enough to sustain her anymore. When she got home, she cleaned off her bags as best she could and left them in the foyer, while she stripped her disgusting clothes and threw them away. She made her way to her own shower and cleaned the grime away and disinfected the scratches on her body. When she was done, put bandaged her knees and wrapped the bruise on her rib cage from where her backpack hit her, and then put on her robe and swallowed two pain killers. On her way downstairs to make dinner, she heard the doorbell ring.

She looked out the side window to see Finn Hudson, who waved at her. She wished she were tall enough to see through the peep hole because now that he'd seen her, she couldn't pretend she wasn't home. She had no idea why Finn followed her around so much at first. She was excited then, because she'd finally made a friend, but after talking to him enough times she realized that he was about as bright as a burned out light bulb, and was extremely insensitive and selfish. She'd told him plenty of times she wasn't interested in dating him but he continued to try his best to get her to date him anyways, regardless of her own lack of desire. Rachel didn't know if she really was gay like everyone told her, but she'd never had anyone that treated her kindly enough for her to even begin to fall for. And she certainly wasn't interested in the scum that populated McKinley.

She sighed in exasperation and opened the door with the chain still in place. She'd installed it herself when the jocks tried to welcome themselves into her home to host a party one night. They'd planned to just shove her out of the way and into a closet as soon as she answered the door. Most of them somehow knew that her fathers were rarely home, and tried to used that to their advantage. But Rachel abso-fucking-lutely refused to be bullied in her own home. As soon as she saw them she threatened to call the cops and they kindly left while calling her every name in the book and one jock even pissed on her father's rose bush.

Rachel didn't care, they weren't her roses.

"How can I help you, Finn? I'm kind of in the middle of making dinner."

Finn stepped up closer to the opening so her could talk directly _at _her. "Have you changed your mind yet?"

Rachel's eyebrow furrowed. "Changed my mind about what, exactly?"

Finn's face scrunched in frustration. "You know, being my girl. I heard about what happened today. You could avoid all the teasing if you weren't a loser anymore."

Rachel's eyes hardened into burning stone. "And dating you somehow allieviates me from loser status?"

Finn smiled, oblivious to her ire. "Yeah. I mean you'd have to dress better and stuff too though. And I'll even have sex with you so everyone will stop calling you gay like your dads."

Rachel was astounded. She was unaware that he could possibly be _that_ stupid, to think that this was an offer she'd consider. She promptly slammed the door—_it wasn't a very loud slam since it was barely open, but it was still gratifying—_and leaned her back against it. She slid down to sit on the floor, before she heard him start yelling.

"_What the fuck, Rachel. I've been patient with you. Ive offered you a chance to be with me—a POPULAR jock—and I'm tired of the games! Well, fuck you, Man Hands! I guess its true what they said about you having a dick! You disgusting little shit. I wouldn't fuck you if you begged me to. I could have any cheerleader in Lima. You blew it now, bitch. I'll make your life a living hell."_

Rachel snickered. He was far too late to the party for that. Her life was already Hell, and she knew for a fact now that the only reason he was pursuing her is because none of the cheerleaders wanted him. He must've thought she'd be an easy fuck_. Go after the girl with low self esteem._

Rachel was amused by his antics until she felt him kick the door. He was still yelling and cursing and kicking her _front door_. She quickly crawled away from it afraid he might actually kick it down. One of her neighbors must have heard the commotion and called the cops because soon Rachel heard sirens and the kicking stopped.

An officer came up to her door to ask if she was okay, and then set off about his way after promising to drive by to check on her later. Rachel was absolutely dumbfounded at the incident. _Is this really my life?_ She thought to herself, as she made her way back upstairs because she was too exhausted to fix anything to eat now.

Rachel took off her robe, and crawled into bed. She debated calling Shelby just to hear her mother's voice, hesitant since she hadn't heard from her since their dinner last month and hasn't attempted to contact her since then either. She felt tears wetting her cheek, and curled into a ball and hit the green button to dial Shelby in desperation.

The phone rang a few times before Shelby picked up.

"Rachel, hi. Look, I'll have to give you a call back. The baby's crying and I need to find out why. We'll talk soon, okay?" Before she hung up.

That was the last straw as Rachel let out an agonizing wail into the dark silence of her room. _This isn't a life I want to live anymore_, she decided as she cried into her pillow, clinching her stuffed monkey, _it hurts too much_.


	4. Chapter Three - See Right Through You

A/N: Warnings still apply. Harsh dialogue.

* * *

**Chapter Three - See Right Through You**

Quinn stood over the king-sized bed of her mother and father. They were sleeping peacefully, having gotten over her death by the first year of its anniversary. They'd never made her feel like they really cared about her anyway. She was there to be seen, and that was pretty much it. Simply a piece in the puzzle that was the image of their perfect family. Her own feelings, thoughts, and desires were discarded like spam mail.

_"Quinnie, we think you should be working on your prom Queen campaign soon, dear." Her mother said one night during dinner. "It would be wonderful to add your crown onto the shelf with mine and your sister's."_

_Quinn glared into her meatloaf. She hated meatloaf. And she had zero to no interest in running for prom, but she knew what was expected of her. "Yes, mother. It would be an honor to join the ranks of you and Frannie." She said as she gave her mother a plastic smile._

_"Don't get ahead of yourself there princess." Her father said, "You've got quite a way to go to be as perfect as your mother. If you want to make some lucky man happy someday, you'll need to follow her guidance to a T."_

_Judy blushed and giggled, "Oh, Russel," as he preened like an arrogant peacock at his mate. Quinn wanted to vomit into her potatoes._

_"Yes Daddy." She said instead._

_Russel eyed her plate. "Judy, you put too much food on her plate. We don't want her getting fat." He said with a smile as sweet and pure as Splenda. _

_"Oh dear, Quinnie's on that Cheerios squad. She'll be fine." Judy placated him._

_Russel frowned. "Alright, fine. Don't listen to me, I'm just a man. Its not like i know whats attractive in a woman" he snarled sarcastically. "But don't come crying to me when you can't fit into your prom gown."_

_Quinn sighed. "Actually, can I be excused? I'm a little tired."_

_They excused her from the table and she promptly shut her door and plopped on her bed. She grabbed her cell and scrolled through her texts, but frowned at the fact that they were all from losers wanting to hang out or people she didn't know. She started a new conversation with Santana and asked, "Wanna hang? I'll treat you to BreadstiX."_

_It only took a minute to receive a reply. "Duh! But Coach would flip. Only if we can come back to mine and work off the calories."_

_Quinn smirked, and quickly typed a response. "I'll be there in ten. Wear something sexy."_

_"Anything I wear would be sexy. XOXO" Santana sent._

_Getting out of the house was nothing. By the time Quinn got back downstairs, changed in with keys in hand, her parents were already giggling loudly in the den. It didn't take long for them to get drunk these days._

Quinn had power now. More specifically, the power to take their lives like they never let her have hers. She never got the chance to be Quinn. Only Lucy. Or rather, _Lucifer. _She took out her pain and frustration on other people. Unfortunate souls that happened to be standing in her way we easily burned. She could do it right now. She'd have to answer to Holly, and probably lose her shot at heaven, but they'd been at this for five years already and she and Santana were no closer to he pearly gates than when they started. Quinn doubted Holly would ever let her soul into heaven. _She'd probably just use me as a death agent for the rest of eternity, since I'm so good at it, _Quinn thought.

She felt Santana's presense appear behind her and turned around.

"Seriously Q, you still doing this?" Santana chuckled sadly. "Let's get out of here. Holly wont be too happy if you ax them off schedule. But lucky for you, old Russ there is developing liver cirrosis."

Quinn snickered. She was aware. She was actually going to try to use that as her catalyst, but it was still too far in its premature stages to fly with the Agency. There always needs to be an actual cause of death—for the medical community, of course.

Quinn gave her sleeping parents one last glare before leaving with Santana.

—LaS—

Rachel wasn't close to Noah Puckerman, so she wasn't a mourner at his funeral service. But she knew his mother and sister, knew them to be kind, and his mother hard working, so she attended his funeral service in support of them. She tried to stay her thoughts of how awful Noah was—his favorite slushie flavor to toss at her was grape, and his insults strayed on the explicit and misogynistic side—and pay her respects like everyone else. They'd attended the same Temple since they were kids. The Jewish community in Lima wasn't very large. But Rachel knew that the Shiva following his death would be devistating on his mother and sister.

She did what she could to help.

After the service, it hit her particularly hard that even though Noah's service was quite small, no one would even _notice _her death.

She decided she needed to plan something unforgettable. She'd be a star for as long as it took for them to forget her tragic end.

—LaS—

Quinn and Santana were on the opposite side of the cemetery. There was only one in Lima, so the diffferent religions had to share it, yet had certain sections for each observation. It was... odd to say the least. Like the lunch tables at McKinley, but for the dead.

"Sex isn't the only thing I miss.." Santana said. "I mean, I also miss just being able to kiss you."

"Me too" Quinn said softly. "I also kind of miss being head Cheerio."

Santana snorted. "Why? You're head death agent now. That's kind of a major upgrade."

Quinn smirked. "I guess so. But no one's afraid of us anymore."

"That's true." Santana said. "Ironic isn't it? We actually kill people now and we can't even relish the fear. Sidenote: I always knew you'd eventually become _Serial Killer Quinn." _She laughed.

Quinn sighed with a devious laugh. "I guess so. This fucking sucks. I miss bacon."

Santana snickered "_Fat-ass_—"

Quinn glared, then reached over and shoved her off the top of the mausoleum. "Don't call me that, _Satan_." She could hear Santana laughing below her in the grass.

"I was kidding, Jeez. That body dysmorphia hasn't improved yet? You're perfect. And that would have hurt me, you know, if I could feel. _Lucifer._" Santana snarked.

"Whatever." Quinn growled. "Just be happy you're already dead."

Santana frowned. "You'd kill me? I was just teasing around, Q." Santana appeared back atop the mausoleum beside Quinn, and smiled. "You love me too much to kill me."

"You keep thinking that," Quinn murmured "Since I can't fuck you anymore, there's no real reason to keep you around." She smirked.

"Bitch."

—LaS—

As they were leaving the cemetery, Santana and Quinn walked past Rachel Berry.

"Excuse me." The girl said softly as they crossed in front of her on the sidewalk.

Quinn froze as Santana kept walking. _The hell?, _Quinn thought.

Santana realized Quinn wasn't with her and turned around in question. "What the hell, Q? What are you doing?"

Quinn ignored her and conjured up her briefcase to see if she had a file on the young woman they'd just seen. She couldn't find anything.

"Quinn?" Santana asked again. Quinn turned around and followed the way the girl went in hopes of catching up with her. Santana followed in confusion.

She watched as Quinn walked up to the girl and matched her pace. She was looking at her in confusion and distrust, like she'd personally offended her. Suddenly, the girl stopped.

"Can I help you?" Rachel asked in slight irritation. Her side was aching and she really just wanted to get home and out of those clothes. Maybe relax her sore body in a hot bath.

Quinn's eyes widened. "You can see me?"

Rachel glared at her and said, "Of course I can. I don't have time for this." before continuing her power walk towards her destination.

Quinn and Santana were stunned. The dead could only see them after seperating from the body. This girl was alive and well and she could see them. They didn't know what this meant or how to react.

"Wait! Ms..." Quinn yelled after her as she and Santana jogged to catch up with her again. Rachel stopped for them to catch up, but sighed in annoyance. "Are you... are you a lost soul, or something?" Quinn asked.

Rachel's face scrunched up in confusion, "Am I what?" They were looking at her with wide eyes like they were waiting for something. "Oh.." Rachel blinked. "No, I'm Jewish. So any attempt on your part to recruit me into your faith would be in vain. Now please, excuse me." She said before she walked off again. But before she could get too far, Santana appeared in front of her, causing her to scream.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Stop screaming!" Santana yelled awkwardly.

Rachel's mouth abruptly shut. Her brown eyes were as big as saucers. It would have been funny if the situation wasn't so confusing and tense.

"Way to go Santana, give her a heart attack and this mystery would be solved." Quinn drawled.

"Shut up Q, you were just gonna let her walk away." Santana retorted.

Quinn ignored her in favor of questioning Rachel. "How is it that you can see us? And what is your name?"

"Rachel!" Rachel squeaked.

Quinn shared a glance with Santana. "Okay, _Rachel. _You certainly don't look dead. Explain how you're able to communicate with us."

Rachel paused, then blinked, then simply smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, okay. Well you certainly are my first _ghosts_, but I've always had a sixth sense."

Quinn and Santana blinked. "We're not ghosts." Santana said.

Rachel reached a hand out to touch her. It went right through Santana's chest and out the other side of her back. "Uh huh, okay sure." Rachel nodded.

"This hobbit just tried to grope me!" Santana said indignantly.

Quinn snickered. "Oh whatever, she's hot and you'd be all over that if we were still alive."

"Gross Q," Santana glared, "she's like twelve."

"I'm sixteen!" Rachel growled, faint blush still lingering on her cheeks from Quinn's comment.

Quinn hummed. "See Tana, technically she's only a year or so younger."

"Technically," Santana mumbled.

Rachel was confused "what do you mean, '_technically'?"_

Santana grinned, "Quinn and I were seventeen when we died."

"Oh," Rachel said awkwardly. She didn't know why these ghosts appeared before her _now _of all times, but she figured maybe they'd followed her out of the cemetery on a whim. Maybe they could tell her what its like to die. Maybe they could assure her that it wasn't painful. Rach had an idea. "Um, I know this is.. an odd request but I—would you like to join me for dinner? I'm vegan but I can—"

"We don't eat food." Santana said.

"Because we're dead." Quinn added with an eyebrow raise.

"Right," Rachel murmured, lowering her head. "My apologies."

"Its cool, we can just chill. We don't have a case right now." Santana offered, ignoring Quinn's glare. They really should be finding out what's up with this kid, not wasting time lounging at her house. But she _was_ kinda cute and what's the harm? Its not they actually have _lives. _

Rachel didn't know what she meant by that. "Uh, okay. Well. F-Follow me then. My house is on the next block."

_This will at least be interesting, _Quinn thought, as she and Santana let Rachel lead the way.

* * *

A/N: Review pls? :)


	5. Chapter Four - Look What You've Done

A/N: Warnings still apply.

* * *

**Chapter Four - Look What You've Done**

Rachel had to admit, she was kind of excited to have the ghosts join her for dinner. Well, they didn't eat, but they were company. They didn't seem particularly evil or tortured so she wasn't afraid of them. They practically made themselves at home as Rachel fixed herself a salad, then joined them in her living room where they were watching something on a movie channel. She thought about the questions she wanted to ask, as she silently observed them and shoveled lettuce into her mouth.

"Wow. The graphics in movies have really improved. That was_ almost_ a believable crash. You could do better." Santana smirked at Quinn, lounging back into couch cushions she imagined were really comfortable and kicking her feet up in the coffee table.

Rachel frowned, more concerned with the feet than the comment. Then she shrugged, because could ghost feet even collect dirt? She took another bite of her salad.

"So Rachel," Quinn asked, looking around the room at the various decorations and belongings. "Where are your parents? They at work or something?"

"Something like that" Rachel murmured. She didn't know where her fathers were. Her Dad was a doctor down at Lima General, but who knows if he was there or not. Her fathers never felt it necessary to inform her of their whereabouts. They just came and went as they pleased. Her Daddy was an interior designer, and thus was normally all over the place anyways. She lifted her fork for another bite. "So, what's it like being dead?" She asked.

Quinn and Santana looked at each other. Techinically they weren't sure. They'd never _really _gotten sorted into the afterlife and had been stuck in limbo for the past five years serving the agency. That wasn't really normal for dead souls. They usually got picked up by an agent and lead to a holding cell before their Holy court date. Quinn and Santana couldn't really remember the moments between dying and sitting before Holly. They realized they probably couldn't share all that with Rachel though, seeing as she was still alive.

"Um, its complicated." Santana said. Sharing another look with Quinn to make sure that was a good answer. Quinn shrugged.

"Oh." Rachel responded, a bit disappointed. That didn't tell her anything. She decided to be more specific. "What do you guys do? You know, since you don't have.. Earthly obligations?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows at the wording. "_Earthly obligations?" _She smirked. "Look at you, smarty-mart. I bet you're a good student, huh?"

Rachel blushed. "I do okay. I take my studies seriously.. or I did." She whispered that last part. Quinn's teasing smile dropped a little. "I simply meant to ask, what does a ghost do with so much free time?"

Quinn looked at Rachel—really looked at her—and noticed she was sitting in an awkward position for eating. She was hunched over to the side a little, and everytime she shifted she would wince in pain. Quinn was confused as to why she cared, but the girl seemed a bit sad as she ate her salad. So she decided not to tease and to just answer her questions. She opened her mouth to respond, but Santana beat her to it.

"We're not ghosts, hobbit. How many times I gotta tell you?" She said, playfully attempting to bump her shoulder with Rachel's, but frowning when it simply went through her.

Rachel frowned as well, but was oblivious to Santana's behavior. "Oh, I um right.. I keep forgetting." She sighed.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked, gaining a confused look from Santana. Rachel straightened up and lifted her chin, putting a mask on as if they'd challenged her to a duel or something.

"I'm fine," Rachel responded. "I was just curious, you know, about the afterlife. I'm Jewish, and we have a set of beliefs but.. I don't know, I just thought it would be more assuring to have an actual first hand account."

"Right," Quinn said.

"Well, I remember what happened right before we died." Santana said. "We were killed in a car crash...

_Quinn and Santana were in Quinn's car, Santana finally excited to get out of practice. There was a party going on that night at Sam Evans'—the starting quarterback of the Mckinley Titans football team—house. They'd just made it to state after winning the last game, and the party was sort of a send off for the boys to amp them up for the championship game. Quinn and Santana were Cheerios so they would get to go too, so they could cheer their boys on from the sidelines. Sam's house wasn't very big, but the party was supposed to be huge. All of Mckinley's jocks were invited, including the golf team. Quinn and Santana were excited for this one, only... they never made it._

_In their haste to make it to the party, Quinn and Santana were both trying to get ready and changed in the car. Quinn was stupidly doing her makeup in the rearview mirror, while Santana was trying to replace her cheer uniform with a tight fire engine red—Cheerio red—dress. As she was pulling it over her torso, the limited space caused her to get stuck. In her struggle to get free, she yanked her arm and her elbow knocked Quinn's compact out of her hand and subsequently bumped the wheel._

_Had Quinn been focusing on driving, maybe she would have been able to recover from the bump, and safely steer the car back into the right lane. But unfortunately that wasn't the case. The car managed to swerve before Quinn grabbed the wheel in panic and pulled it abruptly, causing the car to slide sideways into oncoming traffic in front of a truck._

_It was an awful end. The oncoming truck bending the driver side door and causing it to dig into Quinn's side as the seatbelt held her in place. Santana, who wasn't wearing one, was thrown like a ragdoll into her door on top of her arm, bending it into a morbid angle, as her head slammed so hard into her window that it shattered. Obviously, they didn't make it._

Rachel sat wide eyed, salad finished, as she listened to Santana recount the tale. Okay, so maybe _their _deaths were painful. But Rachel didn't plan on such a.. crushing.. end. She wanted something dramatic, that would give her a final say, but wouldn't physically damage her outer appearance so gruesomely.

Quinn and Santana chuckeled slightly at Rachel's horrified expression. "It was no big. Life pretty much sucked for us anyways. Santana's parents were absent for the most part," Rachel's breath hitched and she nodded solemnly in understanding. "And my folks pretty much hated me. All the losers we went to school with talked about us behind our backs and probably weren't too sad to see us go. Really, the only thing I regret is not being able to eat bacon, have sex, and actually do things that the living can. I don't necessarily miss my life, though." Quinn said, and Santana nodded in agreement.

Rachel absorbed Quinn's words. She knew for a fact she wouldn't miss her life either. Her Dads were just like Santana's parents. They didn't care about her. Shelby wasn't any better, and had actually caused Rachel just as much pain as her Dads in a shorter period of time, and didn't even realize it. She didn't have any friends. All Rachel had ever had were her dreams, and she didn't even have those anymore. What was left to live for? Rachel decided then and there that she would make the preparations to end her life by the end of the next week. She didn't want to play second fiddle to Noah Puckerman's death, after all.

—LaS—

They spent the rest of the evening talking about things they wouldve loved to do if their lives were different. Quinn and Santana didn't share anything beyond their deaths from their past lives, but Rachel told them about her Dads and Shelby, the bullying, and about her school life. Quinn and Santana were suspiciously solemn and silent during her stories, but Rachel didn't notice. She was just happy that someone was giving her the time of day. She knew that it was incredibly sad that the only _people_ to take interest in her life happened to be ghosts and didn't have their own anymore, but honestly, Rachel didn't care. She'd be joining them soon anyways. Maybe she could even spend her afterlife with them. She didn't mention her plans to end her life to them, however. She thought it best not to mention that she was planning on throwing her life away when they had theirs ripped from them. That seemed pretty insensitive. She may be getting to choose her own end, but its not really like she has other options. Only to keep hurting or stop hurting. Obviously she chooses to stop hurting. Quinn and Santana said they couldn't feel anymore. Maybe that extended beyond the physical since the way they spoke of their past lives was with indifference and apathy.

The truth was, Rachel was painfully sad and alone. Anything that would save her from those feelings could only be a good thing.

Quinn and Santana stayed with Rachel until they noticed the girl's eyes drooping from exhaustion. Rachel had shared with them about being egged and tossed in the art dumpster, and about Finn as well. She showed them the big bruise that marred her side starting from her rib cage and ending at her hip. Quinn felt like she was choking, even though she no longer needed to breathe. Santana also felt her throat tightening as Rachel redressed her wounds with movements that screamed defeat. Like she had simply accepted this as her reality and hadn't had a reason to fight it.

Quinn and Santana waited with Rachel until she feel asleep, because she had mentioned that she hated being so alone. When her breathing evened out, they shared a look of devastation between the two of them. Although their lives had been incredibly sad, Rachel's life was just.. heartbreaking. They had it rough, but they hadn't been beaten down as much as Rachel when they'd died. They fully intended to wait it out till graduation, take Quinn's car and escape to California towards a better life—a life that they'd be in complete control of. They never intended on giving up, it was just what happened. And even though they'd lost that future when they died, they had time to grieve their own loss. They didn't feel so hurt by it now because they've spent the past five years focusing on being good enough death agents that Holly would let them into heaven. That was why they didn't miss being alive, because they were already past life. They were headed for the afterlife, not looking back.

The worst was that they realized during Rachel's stories that Rachel was completely alone. They didn't understand why she didn't have anyone in her corner. She was bullied relentlessly—a fact that made both of them sick knowing they were notorious bullies in their own lives—and her parents sucked, but she didn't even have one friend. Quinn and Santana had always had each other. They never felt as truly alone as Rachel was. They both reflected on their own lives compared to Rachel. They both thought about their past actions against others. How many girls like Rachel had they bullied and made feel the way Rachel felt? How many of them had no one to turn to? How many of them wondered what they'd ever done to deserve such treatment? They'd never know that it wasn't even personal—just misguided frustration. Quinn and Santana felt like monsters.

They briefly wondered why Holly didn't just send them to Hell.

Quinn and Santana vowed to each other that they would make up for their past mistakes by helping Rachel. Rachel was kind, interesting, and smart. She didn't deserve any of the shit she dealt with daily. They felt more than guilty, but they knew they couldn't change who they _were_. They decided to change themselves _now_, for Rachel. Even though it was too late for them to have a good lives, it wasn't too late for her.


	6. Chapter Five - You Don't Know Me At All

A/N: Warnings still apply.

* * *

**Chapter Five - You Don't Know Me At All**

For the first time in a really long time, Rachel woke up happy.

She'd had the best evening she could remember with her ghost friends. They'd hung out, talked, and joked around. They listened to her dreams and Rachel felt like she mattered for once. She found that fulfillment she'd been missing. She needed an audience to live—even if that audience was composed of two people who weren't alive themselves.

That wouldn't matter soon anyways. Rachel smiled.

She could join them. She didn't know why they were still on Earth but maybe they'd let her tag along. She could learn how to be a ghost. They could even go to New York still, and Rachel could sing at haunted theaters. She'd get Broadway after all, and she wouldn't have to be alone. She'd never be alone again. She could be with Quinn and Santana forever.

Rachel was excited. She'd made up her mind. She was going to do it this weekend. She'd surprise them as a ghost and they'd be so shocked. Maybe they'd even be happy to see her too.

Rachel needed to research some of the quickest and least painful ways to die. As she hopped out of bed and skipped into her en suite for to prepare her shower, she wondered about Quinn's and Santana's past. If they didn't miss their lives, were they bullied too? Rachel realized that they hadn't spoken much about their past. She'd do a little research of her own.

—LaS—

"We're never getting out of here." Santana groaned. She and Quinn had just executed a particularly obnoxious soul. It was getting old, fast. Their conversation with Rachel was still plaguing their minds as well. Having their transgressions thrown in their faces indirectly was taking its toll. "Holly's gonna make us do this forever. At first I thought it was a bad-ass gig, being a Death Agent. Now I just want it to be over. Maybe Hell wont be so—"

"Don't finish that sentence you Moron." Quinn growled. "Haven't you ever read Dante's _Inferno_? We'd qualify for at least the fifth circle. We've never really killed anyone or caused them permanent physical harm, but we've emotionally damaged a lot of people. We spent most of our lives being angry and taking it out on the wrong people. People like Rachel. Anger controlled everything we've ever done!" Quinn yelled.

"I know! But what are we supposed to do about it now?!" Santana yelled in reply. "I don't get it! She said all we had to do was show her that we could be good. We've done that! We've done everything she wanted us to! We're the best Death Agents there are. I just.. I don't want to be stuck here forever. I'm tired of this."

Quinn sighed. Even now in death they were both still so angry. She didn't see how they'd ever qualify for entrance into Heaven. At this point, it was pretty much a lost cause. "Maybe we can appeal to her to let us be reborn again. We start over, get new lives and just try to be better next time."

"No!" Santana growled forcefully, causing Quinn to look at her in question. "We can't. We'll be seperated and our souls are so tainted that we'd land in even harder lives. You were already one more tragic moment away from being _Serialkiller!Quinn_. And we won't even have memories of our past lives to lean back on. It'd be an endless cycle of anger and hardship. Except next time we'd be sent straight to Hell. And.. and we wouldn't have memories of each other." Santana sniffled. She didn't want to be without Quinn, even if that meant another shot. They'd always had each other. They'd even managed to die and face judgement together. She wasn't ready to give Quinn up. They'd suffer the consequences of however this played out together, no matter what.

"Okay," Quinn whispered quietly, wiping tears of her own. "Okay. We'll figure it out. Right now let's just work on Rachel. Let's see if we can maybe help her."

"Okay." Santana sniffed.

"And just so you know, I always loved you too. I just, never realized it then. I don't ever want to lose you either."

Santana wiped her eyes with her hands "I know, Q."

Quinn gave her a sad smile. "Now come on, we've got another case to handle this morning."

—LaS—

Rachel was in the library during her lunch hour, doing a bit of _research. _Of course, she had to be careful and use proxy servers to get around their blocks on certain unsavoury subjects, but that Jacob creep taught everyone how to do that ages ago so he could promote access to his gossip blog.

She was curious about Quinn and Santana. She'd found _Thunderclaps _from 2007, the year they were both supposed to graduate, and they both had a page dedicated to the memory of _Lucy Quinn Fabray _and _Santana Marie Lopez. _Only, the cruel filth of McKinley high had inappropriately vandalized the pages—drawing horns on the girls heads and dubbing them "Lucifer and Satan" with wishes that they burn in Hell. Rachel thought that it was not only mega rude, but harsh. Although she _was_ surprised to see that Quinn had been head Cheerio for four consecutive years, and Santana had been her second-in-command. Rachel had thought that maybe they'd been outcasts like herself. There were several vague news articles about the crash, but not much info. A few things didn't add up though, so her search lead her to Myspace.

She clicked on the profile of a girl named _Tina._ Her user name was _vampcchang07 _and she seemed to be in the same year as Quinn and Santana were. She had a memorial post dedicated to them. Rachel clicked on the entry and began to read.

_I know most people are being really harsh about the deaths of Lucifer and Satan. I'm not going to lie and say they weren't completely awful to me, but I am still sad for their loss. Everyday since freshman year I was greeted in the main hall with a slushy. They never threw them but they were always somewhere on the sidelines with a hurtful comment or simply to point and laugh. The Cheerios don't even have to take gym, but every Friday during free gym the Cheerios would team up on us in a painful and most likely illegal game of dodgeball, only they used soccer balls. One time during Glee club Lucifer even set one of our pianos on fire mid-performance. Luckily, no one was hurt. Even amidst all the bullying, I felt sorry for them. I still do now. They were clearly unhappy with their lives and turned to bullying. I'm sad they never got to be happy._

Rachel frowned as she read the entry. Quinn and Santana bullied that girl? Surely that couldn't be right? They were so kind to Rachel last night. Maybe that was just a fluke. _That's right,_ Rachel thought _maybe she was one of their enemies. _

Rachel soon realized they had a lot of those.

_Everyone keeps asking me how I feel about losing Quinn. Honestly, I don't know how I feel. I never wished ill will towards her, but I was just so angry when we broke up that I never really forgave her. She cheated on me for months with Santana, while at the same time using me to control the football team and making them do her dirty work. She once ordered them to lock a teacher inside a porta-potty and tip it over. Said he was leering at her. I found out later that the teacher was actually scolding her and Santana about PDA, but of course, she left that out. I gave her my Letterman and she said her father destroyed it, turns out she sold it to some Lima loser so he could relive his glory days in exchange for bud and booze. Quinn and I didn't have a good relationship, and Santana only ever called me names. I don't hate them but I cant say I'll miss them. —qbsamE_

_Satan broke my nose sophomore year because I accidently scuffed her Cheer shoes. She said that I deserved it anyways because I looked like a toucan. Later that day, Lucifer taped business cards of all the local cosmetic surgeons on my locker door. It was humilating. I honestly considered a nose job. —tomatatomotta_

_One year in Chem, Mr. Macy partnered me with Lucifer for an experiement with the Bunson burner. Everyone could see she was pissed about not being parnered with Satan, but Mr. Macy insisted pairs were final. I noticed them whispering while we made the switch, and then Lucifer leaned forward with both her hands on my chair to glare at me, then she smiled. I didn't realize that she'd put alcohol gel on my arm rests. When I lifted my hands again to light the burner, the gel that had transferred to my gloves caught on fire. As I got sent to the nurse to make sure I wasn't burned too bad, Satan kindly volunteered to help Lucifer finish the project. —artwheeler89_

There were more. Rachel felt her heart lock up in her chest.

_They had a slam book and wrote in it that I was so fat that..._

_Threw my science project in the trash bin..._

_Drew pornographic pictures of me on walls..._

_Lucifer and Satan had me slushied by the entire..._

_Called me "Ginger" and spread a rumor that I have no soul..._

They just kept coming and coming. Each time Rachel would click on a new entry she'd read a new comment about how awful Quinn and Santana were. The memorial page wasn't a memorial page at all. Most of these students were glad to see them killed. Rachel choked on a sob. How could they have done this? They were no better than her own bullies. Rachel was sure had she been in their class she would have been subject to their torture. How could she trust them? How could she ever forgive what they'd done to these kids? How could she befriend anyone so cruel?

With angry tears streaking down her face, she logged out and collected the year book to put it back in its place. She was wrong. Quinn and Santana weren't friendly ghosts at all. They'd earned those nicknames, and Rachel wanted nothing to do with _Lucifer _or _Satan._

—LaS—

Santana was filing her immaculate nails as Quinn read the death rights to an old man who'd just kicked the bucket via a silent heart attack. They were in his hospital room and the nursing staff were still sputtering around his body. Quinn had originally made her do it since she'd been the one to squeeze his heart until it quit, but the old bastard wouldn't listen to her and kept asking if she could speak English. Santana, being a native of Lima, O—fucking—hio was none too amused by his racist bullshit—dead old geezer or not—and was about to set his soul on fire before Quinn grabbed her by the ponytail and stepped in. Aryan bastard smiled at Quinn like she was an Angel. Santana snickered.. the funny part was she didn't even have to tell him to burn in Hell. There was a spot waiting for him. She smiled to herself as Quinn finished the job.

Quinn groaned. "You know I used to think your hot-headedness was arousing, but lately its just been pissing me off."

Santana grunted, her eyes never leaving her nails. She nonchalantly blew on them, chasing away nonexistent file dust.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Do you want to go see what Rachel's up to? We don't have any other cases this afternoon."

Santana shrugged.

Quinn stared at her for a moment, then sauntered up behind her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and burying her nose into her hair. She briefly lamented over the fact that she couldn't smell it, but she remembered what Santana smelled like. People would joke that she smelled of fire and brimstone, but it was actually more like fresh peaches and sandalwood. It drove Quinn crazy after Cheerios when it mixed with a light hint of sweat. So sexy.. "Did you let that fucker get to you babe? You can't burn souls.. you know better. Even racists dicks like that. Let Holly handle them, its not your place."

Santana shrugged her off angrily. "I don't need you to remind me of _my place _Quinn. I'm well aware of it."

"Hey!" Quinn scolded as she reached forward and grabbed Santana's wrists gently. "What is this tantrum for? Tell me what's wrong and maybe I can fix it but don't do this shit with me. Don't take whatever this is out on me when I don't even know what's wrong."

Santana glared at her for a moment then disappeared, leaving Quinn standing in the hospital room. "Oh, no you don't!" She growled as she followed Santana's presence.

They ended up in Santana's old closet, in her old room. She was curled up in a ball in the corner, and Quinn could hear her sniffling. She bit back the argument she was geared up for and sat down beside Santana, close enough to lean into her, but she didn't. She knew that maybe she just needed to wait and let her get it all out. After a few minutes Santana leaned over and curled into Quinn. Quinn wrapped her arms around her and listened.

"I just don't get it." Santana mumbled. "I know we sucked but.. we weren't like him. How come he got the chance to live to fucking 80? Why didn't we get the chance to prove ourselves when we were alive?"

Quinn sighed, stroking her fingers through Santana's hair. "I don't know. I was raised to believe that everything happens for a reason, and that sometimes it isn't always clear what that reason may be. After actually meeting Goddess though.. I'm not so sure what I believe."

Santana sniffled and snuggled closer to Quinn. "Do you think she's ever going to let us leave? Like really? Because in Catholicism you stay in purgatory for a certain amount of time. But I don't know if this counts.."

"Hmm.. well, I don't know. There is no purgatory in my denomination. You get judged as soon as you die, or.. when the rapture.. um, well. I don't know." Quinn mumbled.

Santana giggled. Quinn was happy she could cheer her up even a little. Even if it was at the expense of her complicated and inconsistent faith. "We didn't get a fair shot, if you ask me. Most kids get parents who love them—I got absentee parents and you got _Judy and Russel. _We were picked on until we started fighting back in middle school. We've never really had anyone but each other. Its been us against the world, Q. Maybe that's why Holly gave us a chance to prove ourselves?"

"Maybe. I also think Rachel has a lot to do with it. I mean, there's got to be a reason she can see us. There's always a reason.." Quinn trailed off in thought.

"Q..?" Santana questioned, as she watched Quinn stare off into space. Suddenly Quinn pulled up her file and searched again for Rachel's name. "Quinn, I thought we determined that she was alive?"

"Not for long..." Quinn grumbled, as she pulled up a folder, glaring at its contents.

Santana's eyes widened.

—LaS—

Rachel felt like a zombie. Like a trapped zombie, in a life that she was no longer living but was being forced to endure. Today hadn't been as bad as most, but it wasn't any better either. Rachel didn't know what she was expecting when she met her ghost friends, but she somehow hoped that things could maybe turn around for the better, at least a little. She thought that maybe they could welcome her into their friendship, that maybe they liked her enough to let her tag along. She never imagined that they'd be just as bad as the Lima Losers she'd spent her whole life with. Rachel had no one. Not one person in her life who cared. Rachel couldn't figure out why she should either.

Her fathers were never home. Why would they be? They never wanted to be tied down to domestic life. They were two well-off adventurous men. Their interests lied in travel and exploration and fun, not laundry and glee club and parenting. Rachel only wishes they'd discovered that before bringing her into the world. She'd rather have not been born to them, quite frankly. Maybe her soul could have been better used elsewhere.. with a family that actually wanted a daughter to care for.

Her mother—she didn't even know where to start with Shelby. She clutched her cellphone in her hand as she laid down on her bed and weighed her options. After spending most of the schoolday doing research, she found that the most profoundly memorable piece of a deceased loved one was a voicemail. She could leave one for Shelby, that way when she was gone, Shelby could use it to remember her by. Maybe she might even feel guilty for replacing Rachel with a new baby. But what if Shelby actually picked up? What would she do then? She couldn't bare to speak to the woman right now. It would just give her false hope and distract her from what needed to be done, what Rachel had decided was best.

Rachel had a better idea. She went to her closet and retrieved her camcorder. She used to record Myspace videos so that she'd have an audience to critique her voice ages ago, but quit after most of the comments consisted of abusive language. She could put the camera to good use now though to record a video diary. She could let everyone know how she felt once and for all before she did it. Before she took her own life. He could let them know that they'd won, that Rachel Berry would no longer be around for them to torture. That she was still going to be famous, for the way the world was robbed of her voice. She'd sing, then record her message, then she'd end it all with that small red button. She was ready for her close up.

She went into her father's master bedroom and made her way into their en suite. She rummaged through their medicine cabinet until she found the sleep aids she was looking for. It'd be simple. She just had to take enough so that she'd never wake up. No pain, no outer gore inflicted upon her body. It was a graceful way to die.

She got a bottle of red wine from the cellar, just for a glass as a final hurrah. Rachel was never very fond of alcohol, but she figured _why the fuck not?_

When she had everything she needed, set up and in order according to the plan, she dressed herself in a beautfil gown her father bought her for one of his charity galas. It wasn't a very mature design, she'd only been 13 at the time, but it was a gorgeous dress and it still fit. She hadn't grown much since then, aside from graduating from training bras to A-cups. She decided to go light with the make-up, remembering how everyone liked to poke fun at her _tranny _look, because she always laid it on a little thick. She'd never had a woman around to show her that less could be more. She smiled sadly at her reflection.

Rachel was ready. She did her scales and warm ups, and let a few tears escape because this was really happening. She was really going to do this. She swallowed a handful of Zolpidem pills and chased it with a sip of wine. She then took a deep breath and sat down in front of her camera. She picked up the remote, and pressed record. But before she could speak a single word, she was interrupted.

"What the _fuck,_ Rachel!?"

* * *

A/N: So, If you guys have been following my fics, you know I wrote a series of one-shots for FaPezBerry week, called _Books, Bling, and Broadway. _Inside that series is a fic I wrote and am in love with called _Something Sexy This Way Comes. _It's a Harry Potter crossover and a few of the positive reviews inspired me to do a prequel. It will be about Quinn, Santana, and maybe a little Rachel. I haven't decided how much Rachel because its a prequel, so technically they aren't friends yet, lol. Continuity is important to me. If you haven't read it, go check it out! This fic is had been completed for weeks now, and I'm almost done with _Alice Practice _so I'll be starting the prequel to _Something Sexy_ this weekend.

Oh, and please review this chapter too! :)


	7. Chapter Six - Too Late to Apologize

**Chapter Six - It's Too Late to Apologize**

"Get out of my house, Quinn!" Rachel yelled angrily. Quinn's eyes widened.

"No! What the fuck are you planning? I knew there was a reason you could see us! You were planning this all along, weren't you?" Quinn roared.

Rachel glared at her and opened her mouth to respond before she was interrupted by Santana.

"What is all this stuff? What are you—are you insane? You're recording a video?!" Santana yelled.

Rachel was furious. "Get out! Both of you! I don't want anything else to do with either of you! This is my life and I can end it how I see fit! Get out!"

"Make us!" Santana retorted petulantly. Rachel glared daggers into her.

"Actually Rachel, its my job to end your life—not yours! And I wont do it!" Quinn growled.

Rachel's face contorted in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? Ghosts don't kill people. Poltergeists may have the power to haunt but—"

"We're not ghosts!" Santana yelled, waving her hands dramatically.

Rachel glowered. "I don't care what you are. I don't care! I want you to leave! You don't get to lecture me about my life when people like you cause me to live in misery everyday! I don't want it anymore!"

Quinn and Santana froze. "Rachel, we—"

"No!" Rachel bellowed. "You lied to me! You lied by omission when you neglected to mention at any point in me telling you about my pathetic life that you were bullies! You were bullies!" Rachel sobbed. "You were just as bad as the people who torture me now in your own lives. How can I trust you?! Why did you lie to me! Why does everyone hate me?!"

Quinn and Santana didn't know how to answer that question or those accusations. But Santana tried. "Rachel you don't understand what it was like for us.."

Rachel glared so hard Santana thought she'd shoot lasers. "Spare me. Who gives a fuck how hard it was for you! You're a bully! Why should I care about you?!"

Santana recoiled and the hurt reflected in her eyes. They watered.

"Rachel you can't compare us to your bullies!" Quinn yelled. "We like you now! We sat and talked with you and listened and were friendly to you! How can you be angry at us for something we did five years ago to people you've never met?"

The incredulity on Rachel's face would have been hilarious under lighter circumstances. "Do you even hear yourself? I should excuse the fact that you are bullies because you are nice to me? Tell me something, Quinn." She folded her arms across her chest. "How would I have fared if I was in your class? Would I have been targeted with slushies from _you?_ How about set on fire? Would you have broken _my _nose had I scuffed your sneakers? How would I have been treated? Hm?"

Quinn's head lowered in shame briefly before the ire came back. "Fuck you, Rachel! You weren't there for any of those incidents! I never threw a slushy at anyone! Neither did Santana! The only reason we ever laughed was because we were supposed to! We were on top of the social ladder and if we wanted to stay there, we had to play the part! Oh, and that kid with the Bunson burner? Yeah, _really great guy. _He was intending on making me do all the work on our project. When I mentioned that to our teacher he fucking ignored me. That kid figured since I was a _woman,_ he—a_ man_—was automatically superior to me in science, and yet _he was going to slack off. _Do you know what my parents would have done had my grade suffered because of him? No! You don't! And that little bitch who's nose Santana broke was the same little shit that told my boyfriend that I was cheating on him with Tana. She fucking outed me! If my parents found out they would've killed me themselves! And she fucked up Tana's cheer shoes and she got suspended for being out of dress code until she got her new pair. So fuck you! You don't know anything!"

Santana had remained silent throughout Quinn's tirade, but her own anger was reflected in her posture.

Rachel just laughed. "That's amazing. Simply astounding how you have an excuse for every awful thing you've ever done to someone. You're a regular Saint, Quinn."

"Shut up, Berry!" Santana yelled. "Regardless of what you think we aren't going to help you kill yourself."

"I don't need your help!" Rachel screamed. "I want you to leave!"

"You seem to be misunderstanding why we are here. We are death agents, hobbit. Which means you do need our help." Santana smirked. "Why do you think you can see us? How do you think we knew what you were planning? Without us, you'll probably just trap yourself in a coma. Then what? You'll lie there until your body deteriorates from malnourishment and then when your soul finally separates, it'll be stuck wandering this fucked up world until we decide to lead you to a holding cell for judgement. Is that what you want, Rachel?"

Rachel was breathing erratically in her anger. Quinn noticed they were getting nowhere with this so she tried a different tactic. "You don't want to do this, Rachel. You've got such a bright future ahead of you. Why would you want to give that up?"

Rachel huffed and started pacing. "You don't get to lecture me, Quinn Fabray. You know what I thought? I thought you guys were like me. I thought you knew what it was like. I thought maybe for once in my life, or my death even, that I could have friends who understood me."

"We are your friends Rachel! We've been trying!" Quinn groaned.

"You're not. If you were my friends you would have been honest. Instead, you were deceitful. You even allowed me to believe you were harmless ghosts, when the whole time you had a job to do." Rachel said.

"I told you like, a million times we weren't ghosts!" Santana growled.

"That's irrelevant!" Rachel exclaimed.

"What about your Mom, Rachel? Doesn't she care? I know you said she replaced you as a daughter, but you also said she was your friend" Quinn tried.

Rachel let out a tired and exasperated sigh. She ignored the question. "What's in my file?"

Quinn's eyebrow lifted in confusion. "What?"

Rachel sluggishly walked back over to her desk where she left her wine. She grabbed the glass and sipped it again, before bringing it with her where she sat on the edge of her bed. "My file. You came in raving about some file that was so important, and you ruined my video. What's in it?"

Quinn looked at her curiously, "everything."

Rachel chuckled softly. She was feeling it. It wasn't long now. "Everything huh? Hmm. Does it tell you that you're too late?" Rachel smirked.

"What? What are you—"

Rachel raised an eyebrow and raised her glass of wine for her final sip. "You're. Too. Late." She smirked, before her eyes rolled back into her head and she passed out.

Santana and Quinn stared at her in disbelief before they sprung into action. "Fuck! Fuck! Do something, Q!" Santana said frantically.

"Like what?! I've never tried to save a life before! My job is to take them, remember?" Quinn yelled.

"Trigger her gag reflex or something! Make her throw it up!"

Quinn's hand went through Rachel's throat to try and trigger her gag reflex. "I can't, her throat is still part of her body and has a life force. I cant touch it. Give me something I can stick in her mouth!"

Santana looked anxiously around the room for something they could use. They couldn't touch living things but the could manipulate objects. She spied a pink pen with a fuzzy ball topper. "Try this atrocity." Santana frowned at it.

Quinn rolled her eyes and grabbed it from her, forcing into Rachel's mouth in an attempt to tickle her throat. She randomly chuckled to Santana's horror.

"What the fuck, Q!"

"Calm down, I just realized she has no gag reflex. That would've been a useful gift." Quinn pointed out inappropriately.

"Are toy fucking kidding me Quinn!" Santana growled.

"Alright, alright! Just, gimme a second. Little Miss DramaBerry isn't in any danger. I think I can reach into her body and gather the drug substance since its technically not a part of her being. I can clean it out if I concentrate." Quinn said smugly.

Santana wanted to hit her. She could've mentioned that sooner.

She watched as Quinn's hands worked within Rachel's being, collecting the substance from her stomach, her bloodstream, and her brain. Santana watched in amazement just how good Quinn was at this. "Q, you could've been a surgeon. You're so skilled with your hands."

Quinn smirked. "My skills were already being practiced with your body."

Santana groaned. When did Quinn seriously become the perv between the two of them?

When Quinn collected all the matter, she sifted it back up through Rachel's esophagus and into the wine glass. "There. She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up."

"She's not the only one." Said a third, male voice.

Quinn and Santana turned around to see dark hair, dark wings, a gorgeous face, and _abs._

"Oh, hey Mike." Santana smiled nervously.

"Its Michael." He growled lowly. "And her Holiness wishes to speak with you."

"Shit." Quinn and Santana whispered.


	8. Chapter Seven - Jesse is a Friend

**Chapter Seven - "Jesse is a friend (Yeah I know he's been a good friend of mine)"**

"So..."

"What?"

"Do you always pretend to be such a hard ass? I mean, your abs are tight and all.. but I've seen you do ballet in your free time." Santana smirked.

Michael blushed. "I like to dance. I perform for our Goddess and an audience sometimes. It's one thing I've always enjoyed from the human world."

"Interesting."

Michael had brought them to a holding cell for them to wait to see Holly. She was currently busy with another case. Santana wondered why a supposedly omniscient being couldn't be in more than one place at one time. Quinn was reading another installment of _Harry Potter._

"Michael, there you are. You're needed at the battleground." A new voice said.

Michael's face turned serious and his large dark wings spread reverently. He made a powerful leap and flew off into the open heavens. It was quite graceful if you ask Santana. Their new company walked over to the cell and smiled. He was quite handsome, with thick dark, curly hair. It was clear he was of divine importance, but he had a boyish charm to him.

"Hey." He smiled. "I'm Jesse."

Quinn and Santana stared wide eyed at him and smiled. "I'm sorry," Quinn said, "You seem so familiar but I don't think we've met. I'm—"

"Lucy Quinn Fabray" Jesse interrupted with a grin. "And you're Santana Marie Lopez."

Quinn and Santana stared.

"That's a little creepy.." Santana murmured.

Jesse laughed, then let himself into the holding cell as if it wasn't even locked. Then again, they hadn't checked it either. "I came here to keep you two company, and maybe chat a little. I never really get to mingle with the Angels, so to speak. And you two are quite popular."

"We're not Angels. We're death agents. We're here because we broke code on a case." Quinn clarified.

"Why'd you do that?" Jesse asked.

"We were assigned to take a kid who never really got a chance at life. I guess it just hit a little close to home." Quinn mumbled.

"So, you decided to change her path?"

"Well, no.. I mean.. sort of. Maybe it was her fate to die but.. it just seemed really unfair." Santana added.

"Life isn't fair." Jesse pointed out. "It certainly wasn't fair to you. What makes Rachel so special that you'd take her fate into your own hands?"

Quinn frowned. "She's—she just... I don't know. I've never had a problem doing my job before. I just.. something about Rachel just felt different. Like, it felt wrong. I felt like it was my fault she wanted to kill herself."

"I did too." Santana said. "I felt guilty even though I had nothing to do with her decision."

"Ah." Jesse replied. "Maybe the people who drove Rachel to that edge reminded you a little of yourselves?" He said with an eyebrow raise.

Quinn and Santana both bowed their heads in shame.

"I don't think we ever really understood how our actions may have hurt other people. We were too caught up in our own pain." Quinn said.

"We sort of felt that by saving Rachel, we could.. make up for it or something." Santana added.

Jesse smiled sadly. "I get that. I'm sure Holly knows that too."

"It wasn't for selfish reasons that you may think, though. We honestly just felt like we owed it to her. We know we lost our shot at Heaven." Quinn whispered.

"What makes you think that?" Jesse asked.

"We broke code. Ànd we haven't proven to Holly whatever she needed to see in us." Santana said.

"I think you may have." Jesse said. "You seem to be repentant for your transgressions. Goddess knows your hearts. And I hear your prayers."

Quinn's eyes widened. "Our pray—"

"No way." Santana said as Jesse smiled. "You're Jesus?!"

"Jesse." Jesse laughed. "Language and culture barriers and all that. You can breathe now Quinn, if you like. I suppose it isn't mandatory for death agents."

Quinn gulped. And after many failed attempts to speak, simply stared.

Santana rolled her eyes at her. "It's an honor to meet you. I have to admit, I was a bit nervous of how that would play out. But after meeting Holly.."

"You realized that we actually love you for who you are, right?" Jesse smiled.

"Well, yeah." Santana admitted. "I'd been told a lot of times in my life that you'd hate me. Everyone hated me. And my parents didn't care enough to feel anything towards me."

"Humans are interesting creatures. But the times haven't changed that much, you know. A little more than a thousand years ago, they hated me. And I turned out okay." Jesse winked.

Santana smiled back sadly. "I guess now I understand that I even hated me. Quinn and I kind of just isolated ourselves against the world. That's how we felt, so we kind of just owned it and accepted that we only had each other. We only really cared about each other."

"You've sinned." Jesse shrugged. "Everyone does. But I've never gotten the impression that you enjoyed hurting others. Repentant souls are no use to Sue. They have too much humanity left in them to carry out her will."

"Sue?"

"You know her. Tall. Blonde. Has an affinity for Adidas tracksuits?"

Santana gaped. "Coach Sue Sylvester?!"

Jesse laughed. "That's her. She's the leader of the Underworld."

"I always knew she was the source of evil!" Santana said in awe.

"Well, she definitely does her job well. She wanted you two so badly and got into an argument with Goddess about it. She was furious about the decision regarding your case. Said Quinn reminded her of a young Sue Sylvester, and you were practically named after her. In fact, she may have been the one to start those rumors and circulate those nicknames for the two of you."

Santana nodded. "That's not even a little surprising."

"Anywho ladies. Goddess will be calling for you soon, and I should go. I do have heavenly duties to attend to. I lead the choir here and we've got a concert to rehearse for. Also, sometimes for fun I like to draw my face in people's food. They seem to like that." Jesse laughed as he stood to leave. He looked into both their eyes and gave a smile. "Don't worry. You've been forgiven for the past. What matters is what you do henceforth."

Before he could leave, Quinn seemingly snapped out of her trance. She ran towards him and leaped into his arms. Luckily he seemed to be anticipating her reaction and caught her. He rubbed her back as she sobbed into his neck. When she composed herself, he gave a warm hug to Santana and left their cell.

—LaS—

"Ah. Santana and Quinn, we meet again." Holly said, amused by her rhyme.

They both kneeled and bowed their heads.

"Oh, so you're done sulking over your death angel assignment? Talked to Jesse and now everythings all ultra smooth, eh?" She smirked.

Quinn and Santana raised their heads and gave her sheepish smiles.

"Alright alright, to your feet. So, we're here to discuss your fates.." the holy court murmured in anticipation. "Yes Santana?"

Santana lowered her arm and looked around in confusion. "Are they always here? Don't they have other duties to attend to?"

Quinn snickered and Holly let out a full-bellied laugh. "Such a curious little Kitty cat." Holly murmured affectionately.

"Okay, ladies. I suppose I promised that if you could convince me that you can be compassionate that I would review your cases."

"Wait a second. That's what you were looking for? Us to show compassion?" Quinn asked. "Then forgive me, your Holiness but.. why would you make us death agents?"

Santana's eyebrows shot sky high at Quinn's outburst, but she too was curious. That seemed counterproductive.

"How many deaths did you orchestrate, Quinn?" Holly asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Over 1,800" Quinn answered confidently.

"1,863" Holly answered. "How many of those people did you feel sympathy or compassion towards? How many of them made you care about their lives? What they'd been through? Where they'd end up?"

Quinn silently traded a look with Santana. They didn't care for any of them.. until Rachel. Fact is, they carelessly orchestrated those deaths with flair and style points. The soul inside the corpse didn't matter. As long as it was detached in the end.

"One." Quinn whispered in response.

"Just Rachel." Santana added.

"Just Rachel." Holly agreed. "It took you 1,862 other deaths for you to consider the life you were assigned to take. It was the first time you'd ever considered anyone outside yourselves. Have you ever wondered why you made such efficient death agents? You weren't the slightest bit attached to or compassionate of the lives of your cases. You simply got the job done. My hope was that you could knock out some of that work for me and learn a lesson in the meantime. Win-win. It just took you a while to catch on because you were too busy whining about how unfair I was being. But we are caught up on that population scare." Holly winked.

Quinn frowned. "Oh."

The Holy court laughed. Santana scowled at them.

Holly laughed. "You two are something else, but you're so special. You should know that I'd never abandon you simply because you are being stubborn and petulant. You're here, are you? I love you both so much..

But moving along, I'm giving you what you wanted because you earned it. I've decided to approve of your assent into Heaven—"

Quinn and Santana let out simultaneous gasps. They smiled at each other excitedly but then, as if thinking in sync, their smiles diminished in sincerity.

"Something tells me that's not what you want anymore." Holly said knowingly.

"We.. what about Rachel?" Santana asked sadly.

Holly snapped her fingers and a giant screen appeared. On it was Rachel, lying in a hospital bed with a brunette woman sitting by her side. "Looks like she's hospitalized for the time being. You managed to interfere with her attempt to end her life. Her mother, Shelby Corcoran was suspicious after Rachel didn't return her calls, and went to check on her. When she found her unconscious in her room, she took her to receive emergency medical care."

"So.. so she's okay?" Quinn asked softly.

"She'll make a full recovery. She might have even acquired the attention she desired from Shelby. Shelby was unaware that Rachel's fathers were absent in her life and didn't want to overstep her boundaries. It seems that situation has been brought to light, however."

They sat quietly for a few moments and watched Shelby tend to Rachel.

"She needs us!" Santana blurted. "She—she has no friends. She needs friends or she'll end up—she needs us." her eyes were wide and pleading.

Holly locked her lips and nodded in thought. "Quinn?"

"I... I want to be there for her too. Could we—maybe we could—instead of Heaven.."

"You want me to send you two back." Holly finished for her.

"Please." Quinn whispered. Santana's eyes were shimmering with tears.

Holly contemplated their request. She knew that Rachel would flourish under their attention. Rachel had lived a harsh life. The girl was sweet, ambitious, and smart. She deserved good things, but unfortunately the people in her life continuously made bad choices on her behalf. That was the thing about free will. Everyone has one. And their decisions often directly affected those that surrounded them. Rachel had been a good person, but had a life filled with incredibly flawed people. She needed another chance.

Holly sighed. "Okay, listen. If I do this, you're responsible for the outcome this time of your own judgment. If you regress into mean girls again, I wont change my verdict. I'll allow you to go back for Rachel and to have another shot at your own lives, but she wont remember you, so you'll have to work to gain her trust and friendship. Don't blow this chance ladies."

Quinn and Santana brightened immensely "We wont. We wont blow it. We promise!" Quinn said. Santana nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay. It's done." Holly said. Quinn and Santana thanked her and hugged each other.

Then, they blacked out.


	9. Chapter Eight - One More Time

****Thanks for the reviews! This is the last chapter. SilentReader, I implied a past relationship between Quinntana. As for their future relationship with Rachel, I'll let you decide. :)

* * *

**Chapter Eight - One More Time**

Santana awoke to tapping against a window.

"Miss? Is everything okay?" The muffled voice called through the glass. Santana blinked and took in her surroundings confusedly. She wasn't sure if everything was okay. But she didn't want to explain her confusion to the woman outside the window, so she plastered on a smile and nodded yes. The nurse—Santana assumed since she was dressed in scrubs—nodded back uncertainly.

"Well if you need anything, I'll be right inside. My name is Holly." She said, as she turned with her coffee in hand, brown hair blowing in the windchill and pointed towards the hospital building before she went inside.

Holly. Hospital. She sent them back.

Santana looked to her left and saw that Quinn was still unconscious with her head against the steering wheel. _We're in Quinn's car_, Santana thought. _She must have erased the crash from our past._ Santana rolled up her sleeve to check and see if her brand of Azreal was still there. It was. _She must have left that as a little reminder not to fuck up this time._

Quinn's eyes opened and she shifted. She took in her position in the driver seat of her old car. "How... this is my car." she said nonplussed.

"Yeah, I think she sent us back to Rachel's time, but we're still the same as the day we died." Santana said, shuffling through her pockets. "According to my I.D. it now says I was born in '94 instead of '89."

"Whoa.. that makes us.. 18 again?" Quinn said with wide eyes. "That's perfect! We could still leave Lima like we planned!"

Santana smiled widely. "Yeah. We could."

The were both silent before the remembered exactly why they were there. Rachel.

"You think she's inside?" Quinn asked. Looking ahead at the large hospital.

"She has to be. But Holly said she wouldn't remember us." Santana frowned.

"So.. how do we?"

"I'm not sure."

They stepped out of the car into the cool air. They noticed that they were both wearing white slacks, white long sleeved blouses under a white vest, and white fedoras on their heads.

Santana snickered. "I think she thought we were going back to the 70s. Reminds me of _Saturday Night Fever_."

"I think you look sexy." Quinn said before pinning Santana against the car door. "And its been five years since I've kissed you last." She added, before pressing her lips forcefully against Santana's. Santana moaned and threaded her hands into Quinn's blonde hair, knocking the fedora on the ground.

Before they started shedding clothes in the hospital parking lot, Quinn pulled back. "Let's go check on our little hobbit."

Santana laughed, giddy that she could actually _feel _Quinn pressed against her, and her warm breath across her lips. "Yeah. We should do that."

—LaS—

Rachel woke up a bit disoriented. She knew she was in the hospital but she had no idea how or why. The last thing she remembered was calling her mother after her horrible day, and that terrifying encounter with Finn. She remembered crying herself to sleep.

"Rachel? Oh honey I was so worried about you." Shelby said.

Rachel's eyes widened as she noticed Shelby at her bedside. "Shelby? What are you doing here?"

Shelby's heart ached to know that Rachel didn't expect her support, even as she's lying in a hospital bed. She'd handled the situation with Rachell all wrong. It was exactly as she feared, she'd brought more pain into Rachel's life. By trying to love her from a distance, she'd hurt Rachel more than she'd ever though she was capable.

"Honey, you're in the hospital," Shelby said sadly. "I found you unconscious in your room, in that house alone. There was this video.. and you were yelling at yourself.. and then—" Shelby choked, shaking her head to clear her speech. "Where are your fathers?"

Rachel tried to shift onto her side away from Shelby, but her body felt incredibly weak. She closed her eyes tightly. "I don't know. I never know where they are."

Shelby mentally slapped herself. Not only had she abandoned Rachel, but it seemed as if her fathers had too. "Rachel.. I don't know what to say. I had no idea that they were.. if I hadn't found you, you could've.."

She was interrupted by three light knocks on the door before a dark head poked in. Santana hesitantly made her way into the room when she noticed four eyes trained on her. Quinn trailed behind her with a Teddy bear in hand.

Shelby smiled softly. "You ladies must be friends of Rachel's. I'll give you a couple minutes while I run to get lunch." She turn to Rachel to see if that was okay, but the look on Rachel's face was unreadable as she stared at the two intruders. Shelby reached for her hand and gave a light squeeze, before making her way out of the room to cry in the courtyard far away from Rachel.

Rachel didn't know what to make of her new guests. She had never seem them before in her life, and she wondered if they could possibly be so low as to bully her while she's incapacitated. Still, she gulped before steeling her nerves and glaring at them.

"I'll excuse the fact that you just lied to my mother and barged your way in here uninvited if you just take whatever prank you're planning and leave immediately." She said firmly.

Quinn stepped forward with the bear, and held it out to Rachel. Rachel frowned and accepted it, the confusion clear on her face. "We aren't here to harm you in any way. We just really wanted to see you."

"You wanted to see me?" Rachel repeated. "Who even are you? Do I know you? I'm not sure exactly why I'm here—forgive me if my mind has suffered from memory damage because I literally have no idea who you are." She scratched at the fur on the small bear.

"We've never officially met," Santana said. "But, we've seen you around. You're Rachel Berry. We go to McKinley and we've seen you perform with the drama club. We've also hear you sing in the auditorium. You're amazing."

"We're kind of... secret fans of yours." Quinn added.

Rachel was still skeptical, but she couldn't help a small smile at the praise. "I'm sorry I accused you so quickly then. But if you attend McKinley you must also know that I have no friends, and that most people only interact with me to do harm."

Santana nodded. "We know, and we'd like to help. We could maybe be friends and look out for you?"

Rachel's eyes widened. "You want to be my friends? But why? You don't even know me."

"We could get to know you." Quinn said.

Rachel couldn't believe this. She'd prayed for friends all her life, and now all the sudden, they're falling out of the sky. Could she trust these girls? They had to have a motive right? She decided that she could try to feel them out but she wouldn't put herself out there just yet. Keep her cards close to her chest, so to speak.

"I haven't seen you two around though, which means we don't have any classes together or lunch hour.." Rachel said as she tugged on the bear's ear.

"That's because we're Seniors." Quinn said. "Most of our classes are on the second floor, but like we said, we've seen you around. We could make the effort to walk you to class sometimes. I spend my lunch off campus, so maybe you could join?"

"I just.. I don't understand why you're here now. How did u even find out about this?"

Quinn and Santana looked at each other sadly. "There's this video," Quinn started. "You.. you were singing and we were streaming from your page." It was a lie, but Quinn figured the setup in Rachel's room would support her claim. "You sang, then you.. you passed out and we were worried. We got here as soon as we could to make sure you were okay."

The idea that these girls may have cared about her sent Rachel's heart soaring. Today was really bizarre. She gets Shebly and two new friends? What is this feeling?

"I.. I guess I should thank you. For coming and for the bear," she smiled. "I'd love it if we could maybe hang out some and maybe build a friendship."

Santana stepped forward first and grabbed Rachel's hand, bringing it to her lips for a casual kiss. "We'd like that too."

"We would." Quinn added, stepping forward to press a kiss to Rachel's temple.

Rachel blushed at the awkward affection, but before she could sputter a response, Shelby crept back into the room.

"Everything good in here ladies?" Shelby smiled, refreshed after cleaning up in the restroom. "Rachel will be released this evening. If she's up to it, why don't you join us for dinner?"

Rachel's wide eyes landed on Shelby, and she gave a tentative smile. "I'm taking you home with me. We can figure it all out later, okay?" Shelby whispered to Rachel.

"Okay" Rachel smiled back.

"So what do you say ladies? Dinner and a movie?" Shelby proposed to the room. "You could all meet Beth, Rachel's baby sister."

"That'd be great. There's this awesome new movie about ghosts I've wanted to see." Santana smirked, looking at Rachel's oblivious frown.

Quinn and Santana giggled and traded glances.

Rachel wasn't sure what was funny, but it wasn't important. These girls wanted to be her friends! Also, she liked ghost stories. She'd heard about a haunted theater on Broadway she'd like to visit someday. Maybe her new friends would like to go with her. She had a feeling they might be interested in mysteries of the afterlife too.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. :)


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